


294 - Law School, Missed Gigs & The Killers

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Mini Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 15:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16140182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “reader is like, right smart, in law school or somethin, when her and van meet and he admires the hell out of her dedication and talks about it in interviews and she misses an important gig because she has to study so the lads do a cover of her favourite rock song that she sees on the livestream when she’s studying”





	294 - Law School, Missed Gigs & The Killers

**Author's Note:**

> This was a little hard to write because Van and Reader don’t actually come into contact, as per the request, so I tried to keep it short, sharp, and shiny. Hope you love it!

Surely there was some scientific loophole you were about to stumble upon; the biological rule went that a human could not literally die of boredom, but you would. You’d find that loophole. The stack of property law books in front of you would be evidence of the boring and would constitute the mens rea. The dead body collapsed on the small, round kitchen table would be a good enough stand-in for the actus reus. Murdered by the Napoleonic code. Death by university education. God save your soul.

While contemplating your own tragic and untimely demise, your phone rang, vibrating across a sheet of colour coded notes. A photo - a selfie - of you and Van lit up the screen, reminding you of at least one good reason to battle the boredom and to stay alive.

“Hey,” you answered, voice coming out a little flat and croaky.

“Fuck, did I wake you? You sound asleep. What’s the time there?”

“No, you didn’t. It's… Ahh…” You swung back on the chair and looked at the clock perched on the shelf. “It’s only just after six. Gonna order pizza or something for dinner,”

“Dinner time. I’ll call back later then, let you-”

“No! No. Stay. I’m going insane. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

Van chuckled. “Are ya studying?”

“How’d you know?” you asked as you stood up and started to walk around the flat, looking for the pizza menus. Van wasn’t exactly a man in love with technology, but three apps had changed his life completely: Airbnb, Uber, and UberEats. The fact that you still used hard copy printed menus and called orders in was therefore beyond him.

“You sound a bit ill. And the ‘going insane’ thing is a bit of a giveaway. Want to tell me about it? That always helps you remember better,” he offered.

“I wouldn’t do that to you. You get the fun stuff. This is literally just… like… Fuck, I don’t even know,”

“You told me that all law is important. What’s that sayin’? More than the sum of its parts? All the bits add up to the whole working system?”

Impressed that he remembered that, you pined for him. God, you missed Van when he was on tour.

“Yeah… but… the system doesn’t even work… I’m regretting this, Van. I don’t want to be a lawyer. Did you see the news? What happened with that kid? I’m gonna be a part of that,”

“No, babe. You’re gonna be one of the good ones. Help the little guys. Do pro boner,”

“Pro bono,” you corrected, unsure if Van was joking or not. “What if it’s not enough?”

Van paused while he thought, or maybe it was hesitation. He definitely didn’t expect to have to talk you down off a philosophical edge when he called. It was brunch in California, and he’d snuck out into the hotel lobby to hear your voice before heading into the city with the guys to play tourist.

“You’re enough, Y/N,” was what he decided he could offer you truthfully.

And, it itself was enough.

You breathed out heavily and nodded to nobody. “Sorry, yeah. I- Yeah. Just been cooped up in here too long,”

“Maybe call Mel over for that pizza?”

“Yeah. Maybe. So… it’s Wednesday there, right? Big show’s tomorrow. How’s it all going?”

Catfish and the Bottlemen were headlining the Rose Bowl. To say it was a big deal was a total understatement. You were devasted that it was scheduled on the same day as your first exam. Van was possibly more devasted. His parents and family were flying over to the States for it and everything. When it all dawned on you, the monumental symbolism of the show and how much it all meant to Van, you cried for a long time.

“So good, babe! We get to go there today and have a look around and see how the set-up is going. All the supports are getting 'ere today and we’ve invited 'em out for dinner and stuff. It's… good. You’re still gonna watch the live stream, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ve worked out the time zones and stuff. Got my first exam tomorrow midday, then I can either stay up all night for it, or just get up real early Friday morning,”

“What time?”

“Your 8 pm Thursday is my 4 am Friday,” you told him.

“Fuck. I promise it will be good though,”

“Don’t have to promise that. Always is,”

“You don’t have an exam on Friday though, right?” Van asked, that beautiful seriousness in his voice that was as rare as Bondy’s completely normal one.

“No, no. First one tomorrow, then more next week. And tomorrow’s is my stupid elective one too. If I had just chosen normal courses at the start of semester, I would’ve been able to come to California,” you lamented.

“It’s alright, babe. They’ll be more stadium shows. Don’t got that helicopter yet, you know what I mean?”

Van stayed on hold while you called the pizza place and messaged Mel. He stayed on the line until she arrived. Promising to call Thursday afternoon, after the exam, you said the obligatory but no less meaningful I-love-yous and I-miss-yous.

While that was happening, Mel was flicking through your study notes and property law books. As soon as you hung up the phone she made a face like she was going to throw up. “Christ, this looks boring. I forget how smart you are to be able to like, understand all this.”

…

The bus had that brief and beautiful pre-5 pm end of the working day calm to it. Not all of the seats were taken and there was no dirty scent of tired human bodies in the air. You sat in a seat above one of the wheels because you’d always liked the extra vibration in your feet.

Pulling your phone out, you were about to message Van when his call came in.

“Hey,”

“Hey, babe. How’d it go?” he asked excitedly. Van pretty much always assumed you killed it at anything academic. That was a fair assumption to make because mostly you did just that.

“Ugh, you know. Never know until the results come in,”

“Sure you aced it.”

His big, big confidence was enough for the both of you. 

"Thanks. So, how are you? The big day. What’s the time there? Early, right?” you asked Van, sitting up a little straighter, feeling a little more bright with the sound of his happy voice ringing in your ear.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s 'bout half past eight or somethin’, I think. Got some proper sleep last night. Feelin’ good. Real excited. Can’t sit still.”

You could hear the bounce in his voice and imagined him pacing hotel hallways and smoky alleyways to burn energy. “I’m excited too. Did a bit of stalking online before my exam. Everyone seems really fucking pumped, like the fans and stuff. Some have been camping outside the Bowl,”

“Yeah! Got told that. Reckon I’ll try to get into soundcheck a little earlier so I can go say hi,”

“Think they’d probably appreciate that a lot,” you said, a little embarrassed that Van’s gratitude and kindness still made you swoon so Goddamn hard.

“Eh, you know how it is. Got to give the kids what they want,”

“They are gonna put your kid through school, I guess,” you agreed with a laugh.

“Our kids,” Van corrected.

“Our kids. Yeah.”

Van stayed on the phone for the entire bus trip. You played 'eye spy,’ like you always did when you were calling long distance and didn’t want to hang up. Of course, there was the added element of difficulty in that the guessing player couldn’t actually see what the spying player could spy, but Van had a knack of picking the things that would catch your attention.

…

It was 3:30 am and your eyelids were heavy. All the lights in the flat were on and your laptop was connected to the big television in the lounge via the HDMI cable. As ready as you could be, you waited until the live stream link went up.

Before it did, your phone rang. It was almost out of battery, so when you saw it was Van, you felt your stomach flip.

“Hey!”

“Babe, can’t talk for long, about to head out,” Van said, his speech fast. There were too many noises in the background to even begin to identify. “Just want to make sure you’re up,”

“Yeah, course I am. Got it set up and everything. I’m ready,” you assured him.

“Alright, good, good. And, babe, I just want you to know that I love ya loads and loads. And I know it’s not your fault that you couldn’t be here. Don’t want you to feel guilty or nothing like that.” He was trying to sound serious and meaningful. It almost made you laugh.

“I know, Van. I love you too,”

“I’m dead fuckin’ proud of you, Y/N. You’re so, so smart. I mean, you’re in fucking law school. That’s like… the top thing, you know what I mean?”

That definitely made you laugh. “Yeah, maybe it’s like… third? After rocket science and brain surgery,”

“You’re a genius, babe. I love you. I gotta go. Enjoy the show, yeah? It’s for you,” Van said as softly as he could given the frantic environment he was in.

“Okay, I will. I love you too.”

…

The stage was reset for Catfish after the opening acts. They were live streamed too, but you opted to catch some sweet, sweet Zs instead. Someone would record it all and put it on YouTube anyway. Watching the stream, you smiled every time you saw Larry or another person you knew and loved. It made you feel special, like you were watching a big Hollywood movie and the lead actors were all your best friends.

When the lights went down and the smoke machines washed the stage in a hazy glow, you felt sick with love. The screams from the crowd were audible, but mostly tuned out by the amazing live recording being done. The boys walked out on stage and they all looked so fucking happy and healthy. Even Bondy was offering an authentic smile, unable to contain his bliss.

“How are yas?!” Van asked, grabbing his mic and swinging it around like it was a third arm. “Thanks for comin’ out. This is… This is class… Alright. Are ya ready? Let’s go!”

And go they went. They cycled through an extended and very fucking excellent set list, including new tracks and ones that had been retired for a while. Each and every time the crowd sang back, Van’s smile looked like it was about to split his face in two. That would never, ever grow old for him.

After Hourglass, they launched into Business. During the bridge they dragged out all the sounds, experimenting on the spot and bouncing off each other. Catfish were better at improv than anyone gave them credit for. Slowly, the melody began to change and it stopped being Business. Recognition sparked in your brain but you couldn’t place it at first.

Van stepped to the microphone and leaned into it, letting his face rest against it entirely. You watched him look at the crowd, then at his band. He’d found the cameras earlier in the set and mostly tried to avoid looking into them. But, after nodding to Larry, he turned and starred directly into one. He did that funny little smirk that you’d only ever really seen on him in the comfort of your home; it was his smile for you. He was talking to you.

“You sit there in your heartache, waiting on some beautiful boy to… save you from your old ways. You play forgiveness. Watch it now, here he comes!” Van sang.

“No,” you whispered out loud to yourself, pretty much involuntarily.

“He doesn’t look a thing like Jeeeeeesus, but he talks like a gentleman like you imagined… when you… were young.”

When You Were Young was your favourite song of all time. Though, Van would always clarify, “Except for my songs.” Funny that even his songs were stealing lines from it though.

As you watched the band perform it, a performance for one, you wondered how long it had taken Van to convince the guys to do a cover.

“They say the devil’s water… it ain’t so sweet… You don’t have to drink right now… but you can dip your feet every once in a while…”

The song melted into the next original track before the crowd even really had the chance to react. The boys were golden though; the fans would love a sneaky cover. They would surely love it more if they knew it was Van’s girlfriend’s favourite song.

Catfish and the Bottlemen’s biggest show yet played out perfectly. They reluctantly left the stage with waves and bows and smiles and glow.

The live stream ended.

Your phone vibrated and a photo - a selfie - of you and Van lit up the screen.


End file.
